Progression
by starlight.moon.princess
Summary: Draco Malfoy's life was inexplicably intertwined with Harry Potter's :: Ten pivotal moments in Draco's life, and the way they all revolved around Harry :: Draco-centric, HarryDraco in later chapters :: A collection
1. First Meetings

**This collection has been entered in Fanfiction, School of Imagination and Creativity (The 70s and 80s - write a collection about a character born in those years)**

**This chapter has also been entered in the Opposite Day Challenge (write a non-romance fic with Draco and Harry as the main characters); the If You Dare Challenge (147. skirmish) and the Philosopher's Stone Competition (Diagon Alley)**

* * *

"Draco, can I trust you to get fitted for robes alone?" Narcissa Malfoy asked, looking down at her son.

"Of course, Mother," the blond boy said, flashing her an innocent look.

She peered down at him, a suspicious look on her face. Finding nothing to worry about, she let out a satisfied sound before turning and starting to walk towards Gingotts. As his father followed her, Draco exchanged a knowing smirk with him.

As soon as his parents were out of his eyesight, he turned around and walked into Madam Malkin's, strutting just like his father had taught him. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys were better than everyone else – he would make sure that the woman his parents had told him would take his measurements knew that.

"Oh!" a little, white-haired woman squealed at the sight of him. "Here for your new robes dear?" she asked, beaming. "You'll be starting Hogwarts this year, I assume?"

"Of course," Draco sniffed, "Isn't it obvious? I haven't been here before, have I?"

The woman – Madam Malkin, he assumed – gave him a dry look. "A Malfoy, I'm guessing," she murmured. "I should have realised it as soon as I saw you – that hair is unmistakeable." Before Draco could say anything, she summoned a small platform in front of her.

"Stand on here, please," she said, her voice a little sharper than before. To anyone else, it wouldn't have been audible, but Draco caught it immediately. He couldn't help but feel pleased – the woman had obviously realised how superior he was to her, and the envy had started to overtake her.

He stood there for Merlin only knew how long, bearing her measurements in irritated silence, before the door opened again.

At the sound of the door, she looked up from taking care of his robes to greet the new arrival, a dark haired boy who looked to be about his age. Immediately, Draco noticed the state of his clothes. For one, they were unmistakeably Muggle. That could have been forgiven, but they were also old and too big for him – it was obvious that whoever this boy was, he definitely wasn't at Draco's level.

As Madam Malkin made small talk with the boy, Draco braced himself to face him. He still didn't know who the boy was, and no matter how he looked, he would be expected to be friendly to him until he had more information.

So when the boy climbed onto a platform next to him, he fixed a fake smile on his face before turning to look at him. "Hullo," he said, "Hogwarts too?"

The boy replied with a simple, "Yes." Immediately, Draco could feel himself getting irritated for some unknown reason – the boy just happened to rub him the wrong way.

"My father's next door buying my books and my mother's up the street looking at wands. Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first-years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow," he boasted, making sure the other boy knew just how superior he was. He knew that almost everything he was saying was a lie, and his parents would kill him if they heard him, but it didn't matter. He had to prove he was better than the other boy. "Have _you_ got your own broom?" he asked, certain of the answer.

The other boy's "No" confirmed that he was right – this wasn't someone he'd usually associate with at all. Smirking just a little, Draco continued to ask him mindless questions about Quidditch and the houses at Hogwarts, knowing that every word must be reminding him of how much Draco was better than him.

He couldn't remember what he said during the rest of the conversation, but within a few moments, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and handed him a package with his robes.

Draco stepped off the little footstool and walked out the door, content in his momentary freedom. He had no doubt that he'd see the boy at Hogwarts, but he was just as sure that he'd made certain that he would be in awe of Draco – after all, considering his lineage, who wouldn't be?

But before he could continue on with his musings, his parents suddenly appeared in front of him. His mother took his robes and shrunk them, putting them into her purse.

"So," she asked, "Did you meet anyone in the shop, love? Maybe a new friend?"

"No one worthy of me, Mother," Draco replied.

As his mother let out an exasperated sigh and started to talk about how he shouldn't act superior all the time, his father passed him an ice cream cone. And as Draco ate his ice cream – chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts – he smiled softly.

Life was good for Draco Malfoy.

* * *

**I hope you guys enjoyed it! As always, please don't forget to drop a review on your way out :)**


	2. The First Train Ride

**This chapter has been entered to the If You Dare Challenge (911. New Truths)**

* * *

"I expect you to do your best at Hogwarts," Lucius told his son sternly. "I don't want any owls home from Severus telling me you've gotten yourself into trouble."

"Of course, Father," Draco murmured obediently.

As the Hogwarts Express pulled into the platform, his mother drew him into her embrace. "I will miss you dearly, Draco," she whispered into his hair, arms tightening around him for a moment before she let him go.

"I will miss you too, Mother," Draco replied, not entirely truthfully. He was too excited at the prospect of finally going to Hogwarts to even think about missing his parents and home.

As soon as he got on the train, he quickly found Crabbe and Goyle. His father had informed him that the two larger boys would stay by his side at all times, protecting him from anyone with malicious intent and generally carrying out any orders he would give them.

The two boys were in a cabin with Pansy Parkinson, and Draco settled in for what he was sure would be a brilliant train ride.

And then Blaise came crashing in through the door, and everything started to go downhill, even though Draco didn't know that yet.

"They're saying that Potter – Harry Potter – is on the train!" he exclaimed as a greeting. "Can you believe it? We're starting Hogwarts the same year as Potter is!"

At the news, Draco let his lips curve into an interested smile. Getting friendly with Potter would be extremely advantageous for him; there was no doubt about it. "Where did they say he's sitting, Blaise?" he asked. "I think I'll go and ask him to join us. The poor boy will need someone to teach him about the wizarding world after Dumbledore dumped him at some Muggles' home, and who better to do that than us?"

Blaise shrugged, an elegant movement. "He's supposed to be somewhere at the back in a cabin with one of the Weasley brood."

"Well, he obviously needs to be rescued then," Draco sniffed. "Crabbe, Goyle, come with me."

It took him some time, but he finally managed to find the compartment the legendary Potter was in. And that, of course, was when things got bad.

When he entered, the first thing he saw was a mass of red hair. Wrinkling his nose at the boy who was undoubtedly a Weasley, he turned to the other person in the compartment, ready to rescue him from the red haired menace. Potter would be extremely grateful to him, and he could already picture the things he would get as the best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived.

The first thing he noticed about Potter was the messy hair almost completely covering his scar.

And then he saw his face, and he couldn't hold back a wince. Suddenly, his father's orders to be cordial to everyone he didn't know made a lot more sense.

But he was Draco Malfoy, and he wasn't going to be cowed down so easily. He would get Potter on his side by any means possible.

He had no idea what he said to Potter during that talk – all he could hear was the resounding sound of failure in his ears.

How dare someone deny Draco Malfoy's hand in friendship? It was a chance that many would kill for, and the fact that Potter had chosen Weasley – _Weasley_ of all people – over him was a huge dent in his ego.

And then the Sorting Hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" and Draco knew what he had to do. If he couldn't get Potter on his side, he'd make sure that Potter would _never_ be able to forget him. He'd become the biggest thorn in Potter's side he could be, and when the Dark Lord rose again, like his father said he would, he would be honoured beyond all his other followers.

After all, if he couldn't get the notice of the world as the best friend of the boy-who-lived, he'd get it by being the right hand man of the Dark Lord when he took over the world.

* * *

**I hope you guys enjoyed! As always, please don't forget to drop a review on your way out :)**


	3. The Dark Mark

**This chapter has been entered in the Hunger Games Challenge (genre: horror; emotion: hope; dialogue: "It's in our blood"; character: Rabastan Lestrange; weapon: battering ram); Camp Potter (Campfire Songs - write something inspired by the lyrics _"Remember my mistakes. Remember you can change. Remember that I love you. I'm sorry that I failed you. Remember that it's up to you to go and shape your life into one that's worthy of remembering"_ - _'Cut the Ties,' Repo! the Genetic Opera_); the Song Fic Bootcamp (song: 'Cut the Ties,' Repo! the Genetic Opera; 34. fall) and the If You Dare Challenge (513. A Fools' Hope)**

* * *

"Mother, what is it?"

Narcissa looked at her son, tears in her eyes. "The Dark Lord – he wants you to take the Dark Mark, Draco," she whispered haltingly.

"Mother?" A confused look appeared on Draco's face. "Why are you upset about that, Mother? It is in our blood to serve the Dark Lord, and this is what we've worked for the past year! It's an honour, especially as I will be the youngest Death Eater to be inducted!"

Narcissa shook her head. "It's not – he's not rewarding you, Draco," she whispered urgently. "It's a punishment for your father's failure to procure the prophecy. Be careful, my son. I wish I could protect you from this, but- oh Draco!" she wailed, grabbing him in a tight hug.

Draco shrugged off his mother's arms. "You're wrong, Mother," he said with conviction. "This is an honour, a _reward_ – you'll see." And with those words, he turned and walked towards his rooms, brimming with pride at the thought of finally becoming a Death Eater.

Narcissa watched her son leave, a tear escaping her eyes. "I hope you are right, Draco," she whispered into the air. "But I know you are not – I know the Dark Lord so much better than I ever hoped you would have to. I pray – I pray he does not make you do something too impossible."

* * *

Draco's aunt and uncle, along with Rabastan Lestrange, came to escort him to the Dark Lord, and it only served to increase his pride. The fact that three of the greatest Death Eaters were being sent to accompany him could only mean that the Dark Lord held him in great value.

At his first sight of the Dark Lord, Draco had to hold himself back from immediately falling to feet. His Lord wanted a strong follower, not a pathetic minion – he had Wormtail for that.

"Ahhh…Young Mr Malfoy," his Lord murmured, fingering his wand. "It is so- _nice_ to see you here."

"My Lord," Draco murmured, bowing his head in respect. "I am honoured to serve you in whatever way possible."

"Is that so?" The Dark Lord seemed amused at Draco's proclamation. "We shall see, Mr Malfoy. We shall see. Bellatrix, Rodolphus," he nodded at the two. While Rabastan had been dismissed by the Dark Lord as soon as Draco was in view of the Lord, his aunt and uncle had not yet left Draco's side.

In a synchronised move, his aunt and uncle picked Draco up bodily and brought him right in front of the Dark Lord. In turn, the Dark Lord reached out a hand, pulling the sleeve of Draco's left arm and pressing the tip of his wand to its inner part.

After that, all Draco knew was pain, excruciating pain of the kind he had never felt before. It was as though he was being beaten by a battering ram, while simultaneously having his insides burned, frozen and electrocuted all at once.

And then everything around him went black.

When he came too, the Dark Lord was looking down at him, a disdainful sneer on his face. With a flick on his wand, Draco was floating in from of him.

"You said you would do anything for me, did you not Mr Malfoy?" he murmured, "Well, I have a task for you, something that will allow you to rise quickly should you succeed."

"My Lord," Draco whispered, bowing his head with difficulty as the Dark Lord held him up in the air like a marionette.

"Such loyalty," he whispered. Again, the strangely amused look flicked over the Dark Lord's face. "Your task, my loyal Death Eater, is to kill Albus Dumbledore. You will have access to him for an entire year – I am sure you will manage it somehow. Of course, if you do not succeed – well, I need not remind you of the fact that you are not the only Malfoy in my service, do I? It would be rather unfortunate if your parents suffered an- _accident_."

With another slight movement of his wand, Draco was lying on the floor once more and the Dark Lord was nowhere in sight.

As he lay on the floor, despair over his ability to perform his task started to set in. Finally, he understood his mother's warnings. _Too late for him_.

For some reason, his mind flashed to Potter. It seemed he was going to get what he had always wanted – regardless of whether he managed to kill Dumbledore or not, he would have to attempt it, for the safety of his parents. And even an attempt meant that Potter would never forget him.

The irony almost made him want to laugh. Once upon a time, he had wanted nothing more than to be the best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived. And yet, here he was, destined to be his greatest enemy.

* * *

**I hope you guys enjoyed it! As always, please don't forget to drop a review on your way out :)**


	4. Myrtle's Bathroom

**This chapter has been entered into the If You Dare Challenge (624. Wish); the 10 times 10 challenge (Potion: Antidote to Common Poisons); the Fantastic Beasts Challenge (Quintaped) and the HP Potions Competition (Antidote to Common Poisons)**

* * *

He woke to a whisper.

"I'm sorry."

At first, the voice confused him. It sounded like Potter, but that was impossible. Why would Potter be apologising to him?

And then the memories returned.

* * *

He had no idea how he had befriended Myrtle in the first place. All he had wanted was to escape Snape and his over insistence on "helping" him with his task.

But Draco wasn't an idiot – he knew that all Snape wanted was information to report back to the Dark Lord on how he was progressing, and he wasn't about to risk him finding out that Draco had made no improvement on the Vanishing Cabinet whatsoever.

He'd ended up running into an abandoned bathroom, and there she had been.

She was the only one who didn't want him to talk and explain everything that was going wrong in his life. She was content to let him cry and rage and sob his helplessness, all the while keeping all of it a secret. It was what he had needed more than anything, a way to let out all of his frustration.

And then Potter had stumbled upon him in tears, and he had just reacted instinctively. He couldn't risk anyone seeing him in tears – and if it was Potter, it would just make him too curious for safety.

He hadn't expected Potter to attack him back, with a spell even he had never heard of.

That was all he had had the time to think of before the pain registered, a million cuts slicing through his body all at once.

Potter was at his side, crying out and trying to keep him alive, but all he could think was that if he died, he wouldn't have to worry about the Dark Lord or finding a way to kill Dumbledore so that he could save his family. If Potter really had killed him, he would finally be free.

But then again, he had never been that lucky. Somehow, Snape got to him fast enough, and he woke up here, disoriented in the Hospital Wing.

* * *

Sometimes, Draco thought his situation was just some kind of big cosmic joke. During every moment he had spent at Hogwarts, he had been clearly under stress and difficulty, and none of his so called friends – Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy – had noticed. Had they been the cause of his arrival to the Hospital Wing, they wouldn't have cared.

It had only been Blaise, Theo, and now Potter, who had cared. Here Potter was, apologising for hurting him. Even though the other boy thought Draco couldn't hear it, it still meant something.

One of the only three people in the school to actually care about him, and he was fated to become his worst enemy. By the end of the year, Draco would either be dead or Potter would be wishing that he _had_ killed him. He definitely wouldn't be sorry that he had landed Draco in the Hospital Wing.

Staring up at the white ceiling, Draco wished that Potter _had_ killed him. Everything would have been so much easier.

* * *

**I hope you guys like this! As always, please don't forget to drop a review on your way out :)**


	5. Torture

**This chapter has been entered in the If You Dare Challenge (104. I Command You To...); the 10 times 10 Challenge (Emotion: Hate); the House Cup Competition (quote: "Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes they win" - Stephen King; word: heartbeat; dialogue: "That changes nothing") and Camp Potter (Paintball - write about someone killing for the first time)**

* * *

"_Crucio!"_

Draco had been brought up to believe that Mudbloods and blood-traitors were below him, nothing more than the filth of the earth. But as he watched the woman in front of him writhe and scream in pain and fear, he couldn't help but think that this wasn't what he had imagined.

He would never have put Mubloods, half-bloods and blood-traitors on a level equal to him. However, that had only ever meant treating them like the scum they were, meant to serve loyal purebloods like him. He had never wanted to torture and kill them like he was doing now.

"Now, now, young Malfoy," the hissing tones of the Dark Lord whispered in his ear, making him jerk in astonishment. "You don't seem to be enjoying this very much. Can it be that you _pity_ this creature?" he sneered.

"O- Of course not, My Lord," Draco scrambled to assure him. The Dark Lord wasn't fooled, of course, but if the woman suffered enough, he might not punish Draco. "I care nothing for Mudbloods!" he exclaimed, aiming a kick at the prone form of the woman to try and convince him.

"Good," he hissed, throwing her a disdainful look. "Kill her," he hissed, "Her screams annoy me – I have no more use for her."

As Draco aimed his wand at her, ready to say those fateful words, he saw her eyes, looking at him with peace and forgiveness, no blame aimed at him. It made him want to break down in tears, but that would be akin to signing his parents' death warrants. So he pulled up all the hatred that he had inside him, most of it aimed at the Dark Lord instead of the woman in front of him, and watched as the thread of green light hit her, extinguishing the light in her eyes.

The Dark Lord watched him, a satisfied light in his eyes as he turned away from Draco and started to talk about his latest plans for killing Potter.

The image of Potter hit Draco again. Lately, it seemed that his mind was incapable of _not_ thinking about Potter.

Potter had always been an annoying thorn in Draco's side, the constant do-gooder who everyone fawned over. Draco hadn't ever been able to see the brilliance that he did in Dumbledore and his precious little Order of the Phoenix. They were idiotic fools who thought everything in the world could be solved by sitting around tables and talking, idealists who had the gall to think that Mudbloods and purebloods weren't different. And by his choice to associate with them, Draco had lumped Potter into the same category.

Yet, he couldn't help but wonder if Potter and Dumbledore hadn't been right after all. The Draco Malfoy he had been – or at least, the one he had always thought he was – would never have imagined himself hesitating when given the opportunity to remove a Mudblood from the world. He wouldn't have debated the consequences of disobeying orders from the Dark Lord.

The Draco Malfoy he had been had worshipped the Dark Lord with all he had, unable to believe that he could do any wrong.

But this Draco – the Draco he was now – had seen the reality that Potter had known even as a newcomer to their world. The Dark Lord was nothing but an insane maniac, who took pleasure not only in removing Mudbloods, half-bloods and blood-traitors from the wizarding world, but also from destroying the lives of his followers, making them so dependent on him that they couldn't survive alone.

Of course, that changed nothing. As long as his parents were being held against him, all of Draco's heartbeats still belonged to the Dark Lord.

* * *

**For those who are waiting for Harry to show up: Harry turns up in person in Chapter 8, and Chapters 9 and 10 are Harry/Draco. The rest of the fic is completely planned out, and barring any difficulties in getting Harry and Draco to co-operate, I'm hoping to finish it by either the end of the week or latest by the the end of next week :)**

**I hope you guys liked this chapter! As always, please drop a review on your way out! I'd love to hear what you guys think about this, and how much you like/don't like it :3**


	6. Malfoy Manor

**This chapter has been entered in the If You Dare Challenge (323. Choose Your Side) and the 10 times 10 Challenge (Emotion: Distrust)**

* * *

Harry Potter, his father had claimed.

Harry Potter was in Malfoy Manor.

When Draco had heard that, his heart sank. Potter was the only one who could kill the Dark Lord, if the papers were to be believed, which made him the only person who could get Draco out of the chaos that his life had become. And to hear that he was _here_, waiting for the Dark Lord to come and kill him – it was enough to dishearten anyone.

And then his father asked him to identify Potter, and a slim shred of hope started to make its way to his traitorous heart. If his aunt and his father couldn't identify Potter, he might be able to lie and give the other boy time to escape.

But Granger was with him, and there was no way he could lie about her identity.

When his aunt started her torture of Granger, asking her something about a sword and a vault – nothing that Draco understood – and sent Potter and Weasley to the dungeon where the rest of the prisoners were held, that hope died. There was no chance that Potter could escape from there – he knew the security those dungeons had better than anyone.

Of course, Potter was nothing but surprising.

When he appeared in front of Draco, Weasley by his side, Draco had to stop and do a double take. Potter, out of the dungeons…it was rather difficult for him to comprehend.

But there he was, and even after Bellatrix forced his little sidekick to surrender the wand he had, Draco still felt another little flare of hope light up. And then Bella was stupid enough to hand Draco her wand, and the little flare became just the slightest bit brighter.

It was Potter, after all. If he could escape from the Manor's dungeons, he could escape from anything.

_Crack._

The arrival of the elf was – surprising, to say the least. He hadn't expected Saint Potter to use house-elves, especially not considering Granger's slightly overenthusiastic hatred of their use.

But that didn't matter. All that mattered was that Potter had a way out of the Manor.

And then Potter was leaping at him, tugging at the trio of wands he had clutched in his hand. For a moment, he fought back. The fact that Potter was attacking him after he had tried to save him made no sense to Draco, and he reacted on instinct.

Then reason set in, and he realised Potter wasn't attacking him, but going for the wands that Draco held in his hand. It hadn't occurred to him before, but he and his sidekicks were wandless, completely unarmed and sitting ducks for the Snatchers and Death Eaters after their blood.

Potter didn't only represent the wizarding world's only hope, he represented the one way Draco had left to get out the Dark Lord's service.

It wasn't a difficult decision at all.

As Potter and his friends disappeared from the Manor, and her aunt turned on him in her rage, Draco allowed himself to smile faintly.

As the pain of the Cruicatus overtook him, the only thing Draco thought was letting the Gryffindors escape had been worth it.

* * *

**I hope you guys liked it! As always, please don't forget to drop a review on your way out :)**


End file.
